


Do Me A Favour

by imostlysleep



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirty Greg, Fluff, M/M, Playful Mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imostlysleep/pseuds/imostlysleep
Summary: Mycroft needs a favour. His mother has set him up on a date with a rich girl and somehow convinced her that the elder Holmes sees her as a potential romantic partner. No matter what Mycroft has tried to do to convince her otherwise, it’s been to no avail. If there’s a possibly that Greg can be of help, Mycroft is willing to take it.





	1. Chapter One

“I need a favour,” Mycroft stated uncomfortably, not looking Greg in the eye.

“It’s nothing … _dangerous_ is it?” Lestrade questioned worryingly as he set his coffee on the desk.

Mycroft’s eyes met Greg’s as a slight smile passed his lips.

“Nothing of the sort,” he assured humorously, “I simply require your presence for an evening or two, depending of the success of the effect.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate,” Greg added, visibly confused but clearly not disinterested in the matter.

Mycroft sighed as he thought of the best way to explain the situation, deciding on a blunt answer to be most beneficial.

“I need you to pretend that we’re dating. There’s a woman I need to deter and she’s not taking the hint no matter how frank.”

Greg was more baffled than anything. “And you’re asking me because…?”

“You’re the only man I know of with an interest in men that I can tolerate for more than five minutes,” Mycroft replied immediately, straightening his already perfect tie.

“So all I have do is spend the evening with you, I’m assuming in that girls presence?”

“Precisely.”

Mycroft was internally relieved. Greg hadn’t made a big deal about it like he had feared.

“Everything will be paid for of course and I shall have my car pick you up.”

“Sounds like a win-win situation for me,” Greg laughed.

“How so?” Mycroft queried, taken aback by Greg’s lack of concern.

“Well, not only do I get a free meal, I get chauffeured to what I presume will be a very classy and posh restaurant, not to mention getting to spend time with none other than the great Mycroft Holmes.” Greg’s smile couldn’t get any wider as he stared up at the man who’d obviously not predicted this situation to occur so smoothly.

Mycroft cleared his throat before speaking. “If that’s the case, I presume I will be seeing you tomorrow evening at six,” his voice was calm and matter of fact.

“You presumed correctly,” Lestrade grinned.

With that confirmation, Mycroft swiftly turned and exited Greg’s office, leaving the inspector questioning whether all that had just happened and that he wasn’t just hallucinating. His doubt was disproved when Sergeant Donovan stuck her head through the door.

“What on earth have you done this time Greg?”

It wasn’t even four when Lestrade began to get nervous. Usually it’d only take him 20 minutes at most to get ready, and yet here he was two hours before he was to meet Mycroft staring into his wardrobe with disdain at his cheap suits. He flicked through them in frustration. Why hadn’t he thought about this earlier? Surely Mycroft knew that his fashion wasn’t up to scratch with the likes of his bespoke Saint Laurent three-piece suits.

Greg really shouldn’t have been surprised to see the brand new and expensive suit hung carefully at the end of his wardrobe, but alas. Carefully plucking it from the rail, he lay it on his bed and merely stared at it in awe. It was a simple black suit, white shirt with a steel grey tie. He gingerly stroked the soft fabric as if it were a delicate creature, he really was being spoiled.

Realising that half an hour had already passed, Lestrade quickly took a shower and attempted to comb back his hair. He couldn't remember the last time his hair and comb had been acquainted, which would explain why the two weren’t cooperating. With a groan Greg ruffled his unruly hair and changed into his suit.

No more than ten minutes after Greg had finally gotten ready and was somewhat satisfied with his appearance did a knock resound from his door. Swallowing his nerves he grabbed his phone, wallet and keys before opening the door.

There, in all his glory, stood Mycroft Holmes. The man looked more dashing than ever, with his pristine suit and soft hair combed perfectly into place.

“Hi,” Greg uttered awkwardly, not expecting Mycroft to have personally escorted him from his doorstep.

“Good evening, Inspector.”

Mycroft lead him to his car, opening the door for his companion before getting in himself.

“If we’re supposed to be, ya know, _together_, shouldn’t we at least be on a first name basis?” Greg inquired, beginning to wonder if the two could actually pull this act off.

“Of course, Gregory. That is definitely a minimum, for any good relationship really.”

So Mycroft didn’t even see him as a friend, _great._

“I’m assuming you expect more too? Even a Holmes would be somewhat intimate around someone they love, right?”

Mycroft shifted in his seat slightly. “Of course, although this situation may require more _obvious_ affection considering young Katherine is rather dense when it comes to the subject of romantic interest.”

“So,” Greg grinned eagerly as his turned in his seat to face Mycroft more clearly, ”She’s young then? What a catch you dirty old man.” Greg nudged him with his elbow jokingly.

“Very funny Greg, hilarious in fact,” Mycroft commented, clearly not amused, ”She’s 27. Can you believe it! My mother is seriously out of her mind, I tell you.”

“And here you are turning up with an even older grouch with not a whole lot other than his fancy new suit going for him.”

Mycroft’s gaze ran over Greg before it rested on the man’s face.

“I’ve always been quite the gold digger," he commented with a playful smirk.

With that, Greg knew he was in for a night he’d never forget.


	2. Chapter Two

“Jeez, this place really _is _posh,” Greg marvelled as he took in his surroundings. He felt as if he had just stepped into another world, walls dripping with gold and more chandeliers than he could count.

Mycroft chuckled as he lead Greg through the hallway, hand on his back guiding the inspector.

“No less for my Gregory,” he purred into Lestrade’s ear as they reached the lounge area.

A shiver ran down Greg’s spine as the heat from Mycroft’s breath made the hair on his neck stand up. How long was he going to last before he melted into the other man’s arms? If his heart rate was anything to go by, not much longer.

“So,” Greg diverted, clearing his throat, ”what’s the plan?”

Holmes glanced at him questioningly at the sudden change in demeanour before checking his watch.

“Katherine will be dining here tonight with her brother to commemorate his recent return from Washington. I simply require you to display noticeable interest in me as your date,” Mycroft stated.

Linking arms with the other man Greg grinned up at him, finally able to calm his heart to a somewhat healthy pace.

“Now now, darling,” Lestrade drawled as his eyes locked with Mycroft’s, “It’s our third year anniversary, how could you expect me to keep my hands off of you?”

“Is it now,” Mycroft hummed, “I would have dressed up a bit had I known.”

“But instead you’re wearing my favourite suit,” Greg beamed, “When’s our reservation?”

Mycroft blushed slightly as he checked his watch again and looked around.

“Any minute now, we just-“ he faltered as he spotted someone across the room, “She’s here. Blonde, 5’8” wearing red.”

Greg looked in the direction Mycroft faced and saw the woman in question with what he presumed was her brother. Her silk dress hung to her body, moving like it was a part of her. The brother was equally as gorgeous but very much not his type. He simply wore a white shirt open at the neck under his leather jacket along with a pair of tight fitting trousers.

“Damn, you totally hit the jackpot. That family’s genes are insane,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair subconsciously. He’d never been insecure about his looks yet currently he’d never felt older and more miserable. Greg would be lying if he said he hadn’t been lonely since the divorce. No longer having someone there for him at the end of a long day was more than difficult to get used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put this much effort into his appearance.

Mycroft grabbed the older man’s shoulder and turned his body so they were facing each other. They stared in silence for a moment, just feeling each other’s warmth.

“I’m here with _you_, Gregory. Don’t do that to yourself,” he whispered.

“S-sorry. I don’t know what’s up with me, I’m being ridiculous,” Lestrade muttered half to himself.

“Come on lets-“

The younger man was about to escort the two into the restaurant when a shrill voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Mycroft!” Katherine exclaimed, clearly elated to see the man.

Mycroft made sure to lace his hand with Greg’s as he turned in her direction.

“Miss Wallace, how lovely to see you. May I ask what brings you here?” His voice was polite and silky, practically oozing charm. It was no surprise that the girl wasn’t taking the hint.

“Charming as ever I see,” she swooned, “Christopher just got back from his year abroad so I wanted to celebrate. Yourself?”

It was only then that she seemed to notice Greg’s existence. The woman looked him over as she scrutinised the man, even to her it was obvious that Greg didn’t frequent places like this. Her gaze dropped to their interlinked hands, wide eyes unable to hide her shock.

“Ah yes, this is Gregory Lestrade. Greg this is my good friend Katherine Wallace I’ve been telling you about,” Mycroft replied smoothly, unlinking their hands to slink it around his waist.

“Of course, pleased to finally meet you,” he replied gently.

Greg’s charm outshone the sun despite him never being able to realise it. Mycroft stared down at him fondly as Greg made small talk. He didn’t fail to notice how Katherine’s attitude towards his companion had changed, now realising how spectacular her competition was.

“It is our anniversary you see,” Mycroft interjected, he noticed Katherine’s dubious look as he continued, “Greg has been awfully busy lately otherwise I would have taken him to Paris.”

“Don’t be daft,” Greg scoffed, swatting Mycroft’s arm, “We visited Berlin just last month, I’m running out of days off.”

While it was true that the pair _had _in fact travelled to Berlin a few weeks ago, it was due to Sherlock causing trouble for the both of them. Instead of a romantic evening, Greg had been tousling with Sherlock trying to drag him out of a fountain while hundreds of locals watched in horror.

“I didn’t realise you were … well, _taken_,” she remarked, “You’ve never mentioned _him_ before.”

Her eyes narrowed at Greg, taking glances at Mycroft’s hand on his waist. This resulted in Mycroft only tightening his grip as he brought the other man closer. Greg seemed somewhat confused by the sudden hostile behaviour between the two but snuggled further into the man’s side nonetheless. If this was the last time he’d be this close to Mycroft he was sure as hell going to make the most of it.

“We like to keep rather private about personal matters, I hope I did not offend you with not mentioning it.”

Despite the innocent manner, Greg picked up on the disguised bitter tone in his words. It was unlike Mycroft to be this visibly irritated in a public setting, even if it wasn’t noticeable to anyone but him.

“Oh not at all,” Katherine giggled, “I’m sure had it been more serious we would all know by now. I do hope you can still make it to my birthday party, Grandmother can't wait to finally meet you.”

“Work is dreadfully hectic at the moment so I cannot guarantee my attendance,” Mycroft explained indifferently as he glanced at his watch, completely ignoring her offhand comment. “If you will excuse us we are running a little late.”

With that Mycroft swiftly manoeuvred himself and Greg into the restaurant as the waiter guided them to their reserved table.

“Well _that_ could’ve gone better,” Greg exhaled, “I see what you mean with the whole ‘not giving up’, she’s insane.”

“Looks like we will have to step up our act,” Mycroft grinned as he looked over his shoulder, “the insanity is just beginning.”

“For crying out loud,” the inspector cursed as he noticed the red dress gliding towards them.


	3. Chapter Three

“How much of a step up were you thinking?” Greg queried as he sipped his wine, hand absentmindedly stroking Mycroft’s across the table. His fingers played with the ring on the man’s right hand.

“Well,” Mycroft answered, taking Greg’s hand and lifting it to his mouth, “it _is_ rather difficult with this table in the way.” He kissed his knuckles softly, letting his lips caress the skin. They both could practically feel Katherine’s eyes boring into them from her table diagonal to theirs.

“Pesky table,” Greg muttered, making Mycroft chuckle. “D’you think she’s gonna stare all night?”

“Presumably,” he mused taking a bite of his steak, still holding Greg’s hand.

“Could be worse, far better than Sherlock breathing down my neck.”

“I suppose,” Mycroft smiled, “Has my brother been causing you trouble this week?”

“Surprisingly not, actually. After you bollocked him for jumping into that fountain he’s been oddly quiet. You’ve _got_ to teach me how you get him to shut up,” the man pleaded.

“I’m sure I could arrange something,” Mycroft smirked into his wine glass.

Greg’s pulse quickened at the suggestive tone. He desperately hoped that Mycroft couldn’t feel it, but the man picked up on everything. He swallowed thickly before begrudgingly letting go of Mycroft’s hand to cut his steak.

After the two finished their meals, Mycroft ordered desert. No more than ten minutes later was the most irresistible slice of chocolate cake Greg had ever laid eyes on placed onto the centre of their table.

“Good God I’m in heaven,” Greg moaned as he grabbed a fork. Greg’s gaze was too fixed on the cake to notice the way Mycroft was looking at him as the inspector took his first bite.

Greg ran his tongue along his bottom lip, flicking it to collect the chocolate sauce that had dripped down. He glanced up at the man across from him to see dark eyes boring into him. Mycroft’s chin now rested on his hand as his full attention was on Greg’s mouth.

“Want a taste?” he offered, stabbing a piece of cake with his fork and holding it out towards Mycroft.

Mycroft took the cake excruciatingly slowly, allowing his mouth to linger on the metal. Greg was too stunned to move as his hand clenched around the fork. This was a Mycroft Greg couldn’t even dream of witnessing. Although he was used to him ordering everyone around, the power this man currently held over him was suffocating.

“Delicious,” Mycroft breathed, snapping Greg out of his daydream.

“H-have some more then. As much as I’d love to I can’t eat all this myself,” Greg admitted, embarrassed that he’d fumbled over his words.

“I’m saving myself. I know you love chocolate cake, Greg, go on.”

Mycroft continued to sip his wine as Greg ate the cake, occasionally pausing to chat or simply watch him enjoy the food.

“You haven’t got any smokes have you?” Greg asked as he took his last bite and downed his glass of wine, “I didn’t get a chance to buy a pack today.”

“Of course,” Mycroft smiled, “Grab your jacket, there’s a place outside we can go.”

Greg sighed as the cold air hit his face, feeling refreshed. Mycroft handed him a cigarette as he took one for himself. Slipping it between his lips, he allowed Mycroft to light it as he leaned on the cold wall. He inhaled sharply before exhaling the smoke into the air above him slowly. They stood in a peaceful silence as they both smoked together.

“Fuck, her brother’s out here,” Greg swore under his breath as he spotted the familiar leather jacket.

“Do you think he cares?” Mycroft asked, flicking ash off his cigarette.

“Probably not,” Greg agreed albeit begrudgingly, wishing he had an excuse to touch Mycroft. Should he just make one up?

“He keeps glancing over suspiciously, so we may be in trouble. Katherine smokes when she drinks so I’m surprised she’s not out here already,” Mycroft murmured softly to Greg.

“Yeah I think you’re right,” he replied, “Are you an’ Kath smoking buds then?”

“Piss off,” Mycroft huffed with a smirk, “Deductions remember?”

It was unusual hearing the man talk so causally, though it made Greg feel closer to him to be able to hear it. The words felt wrong coming from his eloquent mouth and that’s exactly why Greg loved it. Sherlock had told him his older brother talked more, as he put it, ‘like you Graham’ after drinking.

“Sounds like you’ve had a few too many to drink, darlin’.” Greg turned so Mycroft was between him and the wall. “What a foul mouth you have.”

“All the better to snog you with,” Mycroft grinned, eyes hooded as he stared down at Greg’s mouth.

“C’mere,” Greg grunted as he pulled Mycroft level to him with his tie, aching to know how the taller man’s mouth felt against his own.

“What the hell!” Katherine seethed as she stormed out of the restaurant door, “This is taking things _way _too far!”

“What on earth are you talkin’ bout’, can’t you see were busy?” Greg snarled.

He’d been _so _close.

“This,” she waved her hand in their general direction in disgust, “has gone on way too long. I know Mycroft’s not gay so this is just a waste of time.”

She crossed her arms and puffed out her chest as though she’d just solved a crime, her smirk couldn’t get any wider.

“What exactly makes you so sure?” Greg laughed bitterly.

“I’ve seen the way he looked at me on our dates. You know, the ones he went on despite apparently dating _you_?”

“You thought they were dates? Oh hun, I feel bad.” Greg placed a hand on his heart fake apologetically.

“Mycroft,” Katherine ordered, “Tell whoever this is the stop getting between us!”

“Didn’t you hear him?” Mycroft scoffed, only just now tilting his head to look at the woman, “Fuck off.”

To further prove his point he crashed his mouth into Greg’s, slipping an arm around his waist to pull him closer. Greg’s entire body was on fire as his brain struggled to keep up and process what was happening. When it finally kicked back in he curled his arms around Mycroft’s neck, sinking his hand into the perfectly combed hair. It was softer than he ever could’ve imagined.

As Mycroft’s tongue dipped into Greg’s mouth he could taste the slightest hint of chocolate. He twisted them round so now Greg was against the wall and pressed their bodies closer, craving the intimacy. His head was spinning in a way it never had before but he was completely aware it had nothing to do with the alcohol. Greg moaned into his mouth as Mycroft’s hand crept under his now untucked shirt, cold hands caressing his warm skin. Realising what he was doing, he retracted his hand, worrying he’d gone too far. The two parted to discover that the smoking area was now empty.

“Well, I think that was a sufficient step up.”


	4. Chapter Four

Greg was hesitant to check his mobile when it sounded. He set his coffee onto his desk slowly, trying to find a clear space among the sea of paperwork. It had been six days since he’d dined with Mycroft and the inspector was chiding himself for being over-optimistic about a progression in their relationship. If you could even call it that.

Knocking over a stationary pot while moving papers out the way for his coffee, his phone was completely forgotten. Greg let out a groan as he knelt down on the floor and began to slowly pick up his pens. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately which often left him to resort to laying on the couch watching tv until he eventually collapsed out of exhaustion. This was evidently doing no favours for his back.

Finally collecting all of the pens and setting them back into their pot, he relaxed into his chair and sipped his coffee. Less than a minute later his desk phone began to ring loudly, most likely his boss wanting to load more tedious work onto him.

“Lestrade speaking,” the man stated as he yawned, leaning back in his chair.

“Evening, Gregory.”

Greg almost choked on coffee as he stared at his phone in disbelief.

“Mr- Mycroft!” Lestrade blurted out without thinking, taking a minute to focus and set down his drink before continuing. “How can I be of help?”

“As perceptive as ever I see,” Mycroft chuckled softly, “There is a _slight_ problem at the moment that I am unable to eliminate and I am afraid you are the only person who can resolve it.”

“I see,” Greg began hesitantly, trying not to get his hopes up, “Is it possible you’ll elaborate?”

“It concerns my mother. _Apparently_ word got to her about our relationship ‘from a friend’ and she has not stopped pestering me since. She is particularly furious about my not telling her so I told her I would bring you on my next visit. I do hope this is not asking too much,” his voice was gentle, although Greg could easily pick up on the annoyance when talking about his mother.

“Meeting the family already, eh? Tell me when I’m needed then.” Greg was more than ecstatic to be meeting Mycroft again, even if it was in less than desirable circumstances. Hardly anyone he’d dated in the past ever even considered introducing him to their parents so this was very foreign to Greg.

“Does Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“Let me check,” Greg muttered as he aimlessly flipped through his empty diary that Sally had given him so he’d be ‘less of a disorganised prat’.

“Yeah, Sunday work’s for me.”

“Excellent. I shall text you the details later,” Mycroft clarified cheerfully.

“Looking forward to it,” Greg smirked in reply.

As Lestrade set his phone back onto the table he took a sip of his now cold coffee. Discovering that it was now undrinkable, he tossed it into the bin to the side of his desk and headed to the coffee machine.

“Blasted thing never bloody works. We really need a new one you know.”

“Of course I know, Sal. You say this every bloody day.”

“Well that’s because it’s true,” she huffed.

She took this moment to properly glance up at Greg and was surprised to see an obvious shift in his previously sour mood that had persisted all week.

“Something interesting happen?” Sally asked with a knowing smirk.

“No… not really,” Greg replied sheepishly.

“Tell your face then,” she snickered as she grabbed Greg a mug.

“Shut up would ya? It’s really nothing big,” he muttered uncomfortably.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d just bagged yourself a date.”

It took all Greg’s strength to stop the smirk that spread across his face but he clearly wasn’t strong enough.

“Oh my god you did!” Sally exclaimed in astonishment.

“Tell the whole office why don’t you,” Greg groaned even though he was secretly glad he had someone to vent his excitement to.

“I might do just that,” she smirked, handing Greg a mug of fresh coffee. “So who is it then? Someone I know?”

“Er, yeah you might do. Don’t know if you’d remember him though,” he muttered biting back his smile, “I’ve kinda liked him for a long time and well… yeah.”

“Little Gregory has a crush!” Sally teased. She linked their arms and began to drag Greg to her office, careful not to spill their precious coffee.

“I want to know every detail.”

“I really don’t have time today Sal I’ve got to get back to-“

“You want to get back to texting him, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Greg lied, although there was nothing more Greg wished to do right now, “I told him I was just going to grab a coffee real quick.”

Sally let go of his arm and sighed in disappointment. “Tomorrow?” She urged.

“Tomorrow, I swear,” he promised.

He watched Sally retreat to another office, most likely to bother whatever poor soul lay inside, before returning to his own. Choosing to take this opportunity to tidy his desk he collected all the papers together and sorted them into neat piles. This left plenty of room to place his mug down along with more than enough space to rest his head in his hands.

Greg jolted up with a start, alarmed to realise he must have drifted off at some point. His mobile had chimed again, sending vibrations through the surface of his desk that worsened his returning headache. Rubbing his throbbing forehead, he picked up his long forgotten phone. Greg smiled. It was a text from Mycroft.  
  



	5. Chapter Five

“Well it was nice seeing you Gavin, you can make your own way out I presume?”

“For God’s sake Sherlock he’s only just walked through the door,” John exasperated, looking apologetically at Greg. “Ignore him, he’s been like this all week.”

“Isn’t he always like this?” Greg quipped, taking off his coat and tossing it onto the sofa. “So what’s it today?”

“Triple homicide,” John explained as Sherlock continued to pace the room, “Sherlock’s having a bad day.” He wandered off to make tea in the kitchen.

“I don’t have bad days!” Sherlock shouted defensively, “They wouldn’t let me on the scene what was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe _not_ get into a fight with Anderson?” John suggested as he plucked two mugs from the cluttered cupboards.

“That was you?” Greg laughed as he settled on the couch, “He wouldn’t tell me how it happened but he’s been complaining all day about the nosebleeds.”

“Don’t encourage him Greg, his ego can’t handle it.”

John passed a mug of tea to the inspector while he sipped his own. Under his eyes were a dark purple and his hair was dishevelled; he most likely hadn’t slept well.

“You all right?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Just had trouble with this case is all,” John sighed, flipping through a newspaper. “It’ll be back to normal soon. Whatever that is.”

Greg’s phone chimed from his blazer pocket. He set his mug down onto the coffee table to retrieve it. It wasn’t till he’d replied to the message that Lestrade noticed Sherlock gawking at him from the window.

“What?” Greg grumbled.

Sherlock hadn’t stopped pacing since he’d arrived and yet here he was, still as a statue, just staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“Who’s texting you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Sherlock.” Greg deflected, confused by Sherlock’s sudden interest in his personal life.

“Oh please, Geoff, we all know you don’t have friends so who exactly are you texting?” Sherlock drawled, flopping into his chair and staring intently at Lestrade.

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to ‘deduce’ these things? You’re not doing a very good job,” he remarked as he replied to yet another text.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “I don’t like my theory.”

“Why not?” John spoke up, finally taking interest in the conversation. “It’s not like you’re the one texting.”

At that, it seemed Sherlock had struck an idea when he launched for his phone from the desk. He furiously typed into it then proceeded to simply stare it at, waiting for a reply. Although it wasn’t Sherlock’s phone that sounded. It was Greg’s.

“Fuck,” Sherlock swore under his breathe. “Why do I always have to be right?”

“I don’t understand,” John questioned as he yawned, “What exactly did that prove?”

“Read the message Lestrade. Out. Loud.” Sherlock commanded.

Greg swallowed as he quickly glanced at the recent text, hesitating before he read it aloud.

“’Feel free to teach my little brother about privacy while you’re there. Punch him if necessary. Or even if it’s not.’,” he read, making sure every word could be heard clearly.

John literally spat his tea across the room as his jaw dropped. He began to glance between Sherlock and Greg, waiting for one of them to confirm what was being implied. However, Sherlock only stiffened as he glared at Greg. John couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“_Mycroft?_ You’re _texting_ Mycroft?”

“Yeah?” Greg replied as though it were obvious. As though it wasn’t unusual at all.

“Give me your phone,” Sherlock demanded as he stood directly over Greg with his hand out.

“What? No!” He held his mobile close to his chest protectively. “You’re being so weird about this. What’s your problem?”

“My brother doesn’t _text_. Especially people like you.”

“Well clearly he does,” Greg retorted, “It’d be weird if you didn’t text who you're dating.”

It had slipped out without him really meaning to say it. Greg just prayed that Mycroft wouldn’t be mad at him. This was Sherlock Holmes after all, he could see through anything. Well, almost anything. The uneasy look on Sherlock’s face was enough to tell Greg that he hadn’t blown it just yet.

“I’m sorry what?” John stuttered. “You’re not only _texting _Mycroft but actually _dating_ him?!”

Greg rubbed his neck awkwardly. “It just kinda, y’know… happened?”

“Call him,” Sherlock breathed, barely above a whisper.

“What for?”

“Call him,” his voice was now stern, “I don’t believe you.”

Greg had known Sherlock long enough now to know he was lying. The man clearly thought something was going on, he just didn’t _want_ to believe it.

Lestrade looked down at his phone, finger hovering over the call button. It wasn’t guaranteed he’d pick up, never mind know what situation he was in. Knowing it would be more suspicious not even trying to call Mycroft, he quickly tapped the button.

Praying Mycroft was too busy to pick up, he bit his lip as all three of them sat in silence just listening to the mobile ring on speaker phone. It only took three rings before a voice emerged from the speaker.

“Everything all right, Greg? Need me to come over?” Mycroft asked with concern, the genius of a man knew what was going on. Greg wished he could kiss him right now.

“Nah love I’m fine. Just Sherlock being a prat as usual,” Greg answered smoothly, running a hand through his hair with a smirk. He dared to glance at Sherlock to find the man glaring at the floor with his hands scrunched into fists. John simply gaped in awe.

“Oh my god,” John gasped.

The sound of Mycroft chuckling rang through the air and Greg swore he’d melt on the spot.

“I did not realise I was also speaking to Dr Watson. I assume you are listening in too are you, brother dear?” His voice was as silky as ever.

“What were you thinking?” Sherlock spoke softly without emotion. Greg wasn’t sure if he genuinely just didn’t understand the concept of dating.

“About Greg mostly,” Mycroft mused, “You’re still coming over later right?”

“Obviously,” Greg smirked, trying not to think about Mycroft in a t-shirt and jeans. His mind wandered to thought's about what the other man's apartment looked like. Unfortunately, he most likely would never find out.

“That’s enough,” Sherlock huffed, “hang up.”

“But I’ve hardly-“

“Don’t worry, Greg, we can talk later,” Mycroft assured. “I’ve got a meeting to get back to anyway.”

They uttered their goodbyes as Greg finally ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket. The room was silent for a moment as Sherlock’s mind reeled, trying to piece the situation together. John sipped his tea as he watched Sherlock, peering over at Greg with a quizzical look every so often.

“Be careful with him,” Sherlock finally warned, picking up the paper John had been reading and began flicking through the pages, seemingly bored of the topic already.

“He’s serious about this. Mycroft wouldn’t hurt me,” Greg assured.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sherlock shot as he charged out the door of Baker Street, coat billowing behind him. “Come along, John! I know who did it!”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, I lost all of my progress along with my motivation and about 5,000 words of unposted Mystrade… but I couldn’t just leave this story unfinished so here’s a rewritten chapter 6 :)

Peering out of the window, Greg noticed Mycroft’s car pull up outside his apartment. Quickly grabbing his cigarettes and keys, he hauled on his new double breasted coat as he slipped out the door. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the luxury gifts Mycroft always seemed to present him with, but he sure wasn’t complaining.

Startled by Greg’s promptness, Mycroft retreated back into his car and smiled as the detective slipped into the passenger seat.

“Organised today I see,” Mycroft joked as he started the engine, taking the opportunity to gaze over Greg’s appearance with a soft smile. “I told you a new coat would do wonders.”

“Thanks again, it really is incredible,” Lestrade confessed as he fastened his seatbelt, “Not so shabby yourself I guess.”

Unsurprisingly Mycroft’s attire was impeccable as ever, although his three-piece suit was now accompanied with his own overcoat. Yet another layer for Greg to fantasize about removing.

“Mother will undoubtedly have a complaint ready, I assure you.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’ll definitely be preoccupied,” Greg chuckled as he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt while looking into the mirror on the sun visor. “You sure you still wanna go with the whole ‘son-in-law from hell’ tactic?”

“We should at least be able to get _some _amusement out of this considering no matter how you act she will not approve of our relationship. It will make it all the more bearable.” Mycroft’s eyes flickered to watch Greg’s slow hand movements. “Be as outrageous as you like.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Greg hummed as he proceeded to undo yet another button of his white shirt. It was taking all of Mycroft’s willpower to keep his eyes fixed on the road as they drove out of the city.

“Your dedication amazes me Gregory, but I think that is more than enough already.”

They were stopped at a red light and Greg was still messing about with his hair in the mirror.

“I’m just excited,” Greg grinned up at Mycroft, “been ages since I did a bit of proper actin’. I wanna look the part. Offend your mum as much as possible.”

“Ah, hold on I very nearly forgot.” Mycroft plucked a small gold chain from his coat pocket. “My aunt gave this to me when I won my first writing competition as a child. To this day I still always have it with me.”

Mycroft slid his slender hands around Greg’s neck and fastened the clasp. He carefully straightened the pendant before admiring how perfect it looked against the other man’s chest. The small fountain pen charm fell perfectly between his open shirt.

“Now that’ll _really_ piss her off.”

Mycroft smirked as the light changed to green.

It was 4pm when they finally approached the large cottage. The loud crunch of the gravel under tyres would be more than enough to alert Mycroft’s nosy mother of their presence. Coming to a halt, Mycroft switched off the engine and turned to give Lestrade a comforting smile. He couldn’t deny he was slightly nervous about being back home.

“Oh shit, wait a minute,” Greg muttered softly before pulling Mycroft’s tie gently, making it sit slightly crooked. “Perfect.”

Mycroft simply raised a questioning eyebrow but accepted this new change nevertheless.

“Hope your mum’s got a lot of food in,” Greg stated as they exited the car and approached the door, “I’m starvin’.”

“Without a doubt.”

Mycroft knocked on the large wooden door as Greg snaked his arm around his waist and gently pulled him in. They locked eyes briefly before the heavy door swung open.

“Mycroft, my dear, it’s great to see you!” Mycroft’s mother immediately opened her arms for a hug, briefly hesitating when she noticed his imperfect tie, before pulling her son out of Greg’s reach.

“Same to you, mummy. It has been a while,” he smiled politely as he kissed her on the cheek.

Her eyes fell to Greg as soon as her son slipped out of her tight embrace with an immediately unimpressed glare. Greg felt her eyes rake over him before landing on the pendant around his neck. Normally he would feel self-conscious about the amount of skin he was showing, but with Mycroft by his side he felt confident. Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and shifting his weight to the side, he made his best effort to look indifferent to whatever was going on.

“This is Gregory Lestrade, mummy. My partner of three years,” Mycroft introduced as he placed a gentle hand on the inspectors back.

“Nice to see ya,” Greg greeted, lazily holding out a hand. His mother begrudgingly shook it quickly before ushering them both into the living room.

“Tea for the both of you?” She asked to Mycroft, seemingly ignoring Greg’s entire existence.

“Couldn’t get us a coffee could ya?” Greg queried as he flopped onto the couch, “Can’t stand tea.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” His mother replied through gritted teeth before retreating to the kitchen.

Mycroft gently sat down next to Greg and leaned back against the couch. Greg placed a comforting hand on his leg and rubbed circles with his thumb. He felt the tension slowly leave the younger mans body and sighed softly in relief.

“Sorry this must be awkward for you, even if it was your plan.”

“Nonsense,” Mycroft assured as he leaned further back against the couch, “just being here is draining is all. Not had the greatest of experiences in this house.”

Greg spread his legs as wide as he could and draped the arm previously resting on Mycroft’s leg across the back of the couch behind the other man.

“You’re surprisingly a natural at this,” Mycroft remarked as he leaned slightly into him. Just the warmth from the inspector was becoming a comfort for him. Although he knew he needed to put a stop to this before it got out of hand, the intoxicating scent of Greg’s aftershave was making it difficult to move away.

“Oi. Not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” Lestrade laughed as he ran a hand through his hair, “Figured a disinterested boyfriend is worse than a handsy one.”

Mycroft looked at him apologetically, knowing he was speaking from experience with previous girlfriends. Before he could say anything his mother burst into the room carrying a tea tray full with various mugs and biscuits.

“I remembered to buy your favourite this time Mycroft, didn’t want you complaining like last year,” she commented as she handed him his mug. “Instant will have to do for you, Greg, we don’t drink coffee I’m afraid.”

“Still better than the stuff Mycroft makes at least,” Greg snickered as he held his mug and took a gulp. Both men knew that was the most ridiculous lie. Greg would always beg him to make coffee whenever they met at the Diogenes Club to discuss Sherlock. Even the coffee beans he kept in his cupboard were a gift from the man. “Although he is improving.”

“I’m sure he’s got much more important things to do than look after you, dear.” She retorted sternly as she took a seat in an armchair beside the fireplace. “He does run the government after all.”

“Mummy!” Mycroft complained, “I merely occupy-“

“Yeah, yeah, boring office desk stuff right? You spend all day filling out paperwork,” Greg huffed as though that wasn’t exactly what he’d spent his entire life doing. “We could go out more if you came home earlier.”

“You two are living together?” Mrs Holmes spluttered in disbelief. Greg hadn’t meant to bring that up; he hadn’t even thought to discuss it with Mycroft beforehand. Though the most worrying thing was how natural it felt to say.


End file.
